


Wayward Mayday

by xihale



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Line Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 19:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xihale/pseuds/xihale
Summary: Nicky and TJ are fucking around, and one of them starts mouthing off about Ovi, how Ovi might join the two of them, how hard he’d hold them down, how hard he'd ride them.Naturally, Ovi walks in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m mostly really, really sorry about my id. Written for a kinkmeme fill.

“Selfish,” is finally what TJ comes up with.  
  
“Selfish,” Nicky repeats. A smile threatens the corner of his eyes. He does that: smile with his eyes, but always so politely disinterested with his lips.  
  
Just as well, then, that TJ knows exactly what those lips can do.  
  
“Yeah,” TJ says, and settles back on his seat. “Hold me down and take it. Not in a mean way. Just. You know how sometimes you just, when you just can’t hold back, you _have_ to fuck?” He shrugs. “Selfish.”  
  
“And that’s what you like?” Nicky asks.  
  
“Hell yeah,” TJ says.  
  
He doesn’t need to lean in close to whisper. His breath ruffles the stray strands of Nicky’s hair when Nicky turns to look at him. In the darkness of the room, the sun just setting, Nicky’s hair doesn’t look nearly as golden as they do under the spotlight of the ice. On an impulse, TJ nips at him, and gets a mouthful of hair and an honest-to-god laughter from Nicklas Backstrom as he startles.  
  
Turning his head just a little, trying not to disturb TJ’s dominion over those few strands, Nicky whispers, “Ropes.”  
  
TJ hums, and does release Nicky’s hair. It should be disgusting. But. A lot of things would be disgusting, yet are not, not here. “Tied, or tying?” he asks. Neither do it for him, yet, but he inches his hand around Nicky’s waist, slides his hand under Nicky’s shirt to press a finger against the warm skin there. He can be persuaded.  
  
Nicky can persuade him, of a lot of things.  
  
“I tried both,” Nicky says. “I—” he stops whatever he was about to say and looks levelly at TJ, like he’s measuring TJ up. Like he’s trying to figure out whether he’d like to wrap a rope around TJ’s ankles and wrists, hold him in place as he runs his mouth down TJ’s back. (He’s done it before, without the rope, and _god_ , the memory still keeps TJ awake with arousal whenever he lies on his stomach at night.) Or else, back arched, surrender that precious Swedish control of his up to TJ, be utterly powerless under TJ’s fingers.  
  
“I like collars,” TJ says. He didn’t even mean to say that. “I’ve never, I mean. But.” He takes a breath.  
  
Nicky’s living room, in the setting sun, is a strange place. Everything is tinted red; darkness lurks in the corners; and TJ can admit things that he never has, before.  
  
“I have one,” he says, now. “No one’s done it for me, I mean. But I like putting it on myself, sometimes.”  
  
Nicky’s eyes are completely black in the dimness of the room, and TJ has no idea whether it’s the receding light, or something else. “Maybe,” he says, and stops.  
  
_Maybe you could put it on me one day._ Instead of saying it, TJ takes Nicky’s hand, runs it across his own throat, settles it right where a collar’s buckle might rest. Instead of saying it, TJ says, “Your turn.”  
  
“I’ve been hard for the past twenty minutes,” Nicky says, with perfect dryness that startles TJ into cracking up. “Already. I hope you know that.”  
  
“You started it,” TJ says. “Let’s talk about what gets you hot, babe, let’s take turns saying out loud what kind of sex we want to have, babe, I’m bored with the fucking we’re doing, babe—”  
  
“Liar,” Nicky says, his voice like he’s hurt. Nicky’s a great actor.  
  
“This is what gets you hot, isn’t it,” TJ says, still laughing. “Lists. Checkmarks. Straight lines—” He yelps as he goes down, his head hitting the arm of his couch, _finally_ , as he lies with Nicky settled above him.  
  
“Brat,” Nicky says, and his voice is full of fondness that TJ can’t hear anywhere else, including the Caps locker room and the ice, except here, right here, on Nicky’s couch with Nicky’s body above him. Their legs tangle, and Nicky’s jeans rub against TJ’s bare skin below his shorts. TJ welcomes the slight roughness of the fabric, groaning slightly as he lifts his hips and rubs experimentally against Nicky.  
  
“I think,” TJ says, and frees one hand from under Nicky, so he can run it through Nicky’s hair. Those curls are a disaster, most of the time, but TJ loves the way they tangle against his fingers, entrap him like they don’t want to let him go. Like Nicky doesn’t want to let him go. “I _think_ you think you much. You worry too much. I love your dick in me,” he says, just to hear Nicky laugh again. “The fuck are you worried for?”  
  
“The fuck,” Nicky says, “am I worried,” and he leans in close, and TJ thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he stops just above TJ’s lips. Nicky doesn’t look conflicted, he never does, but he pauses before he nips TJ’s nose. “Maybe I just want to know what kind of slut you are,” he says, right above TJ’s skin.  
  
“You swearing still gets me hot, I hope you know,” TJ says, and lifts his hips to rub against Nicky, to make his point. Nicky’s breath hitches, which TJ counts as a victory, a hat trick, a playoffs win, a fucking Olympic gold medal. Anything to get Nicky off his control and fucking TJ into next week.  
  
“I can,” Nicky says, and licks his lips. He runs a hand across TJ’s belly, teasing the waistband there, and TJ tilts his head back and breathes out as Nicky’s finger slides in, teasing, under the fabric and right against his skin. “I can tie you up,” Nicky continues, in a deceptively soft voice, as his finger dips lower. “Hold you still.” His other hand comes up to grab TJ’s wrists, which TJ surrenders easily enough, holding them above his head. “I have some zip ties,” Nicky says, casually.  
  
TJ is fucking _starving_.  
  
Nicky’s finger isn’t stopping. He runs his clever fingers right around TJ’s crotch, rubs around the hair there, before finally, _finally_ he runs a slow hand down his dick. TJ’s dick is hard, dripping a little already, and Nicky’s forefinger finds the slit, teases the opening there, then squeezes, making TJ choke out.  
  
That’s when TJ says, “I want someone to hold me down.” He whispers it like he’s afraid, even in this place, where he feels the safest.

Nicky’s fingers slow a little, because Nicky is a considerate lover, fuck him. “I can,” he says. “Say yes, and I’ll get the ties.” He doesn’t make it quite into a question, but his other hand does release TJ’s wrists to come down and cup his face. He looks serious.  
  
“No,” TJ whispers. “I mean—” Fuck his human tongue. “I mean, someone holding me down. While you fuck me.” He moves his hips, lithe, and maybe TJ fucks up on the ice, sometimes, but nobody can say that he doesn’t know how to move, thanks, and his hardness rubs perfectly against the outline of Nicky’s dick.  
  
Nicky’s breath hitches as he stumbles a little, and TJ doesn’t know if it’s from his words or his actions. “Some _one,_ ” Nicky says, like he’s finally getting it.  
  
“Yeah,” TJ says. “With you in me—” He searches for Nicky’s dick, palms it through the fabric lovingly, and it must chafe a little, but Nicky moves into TJ’s hand, hungrily. Nicky always liked a little pain with his pleasure. “And my arms behind me, someone holding me, making me take it from you.”  
  
Nicky’s thinking about it. He’s probably running through a list in his mind. Making checkmarks. “Someone bigger?” he asks. “Someone stronger?”  
  
“Fuck yes,” TJ hisses.  
  
Both of Nicky’s hands are pressing down on TJ’s shoulders now, bearing down, as they rut shamelessly together, TJ’s hand still caught between them, and fuck, apparently Nicky isn’t the only who likes a little pain with his pleasure.  
  
“You could take two,” Nicky says, and fuck the way his voice is still steady, only a little breathless. TJ’s already panting like a thirsty dog. “Me and him, at the same time. Couldn’t you?”  
  
“Yes,” TJ says, growls it loud. “Please,” and he’s pretty out of his mind right now, body just moving to get friction on his dick, but he’s also kind of wired to think of his teammates on ice and off ice, and when he has to think of Nicky and _someone else_ , look, there’s only so much— “Ovi would be fucking great at holding people,” he blurts out. “Don’t you think?”  
  
Nicky continues bearing down on him, but his eyes are calm. “Why do you say that?” he asks.  
  
TJ will bite his own tongue out from shame, the safe haven of Nicky’s living room or not, if he has to admit the arousal he’s felt from the way Ovi jokingly shoved him around on the ice, the strength he felt coiled under there. “Uh,” he says.  
  
“He is, by the way,” Nicky says.  
  
“What,” TJ says.  
  
“He just completely holds you down,” Nicky says, and now he’s pressing a finger on the spot on TJ’s throat that TJ led him to before, the buckle of his imaginary collar. All the while his legs press down against TJ’s legs, spreading them a little wider and holding them open. And TJ is not going to lie, sprawled on his back with his legs open is his favorite position. “And he takes what he wants.” He nips TJ’s jaw.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” TJ moans, and ruts desperately against Nicky, but Nicky doesn’t _let_ him, the bastard, lifting his hips a little so TJ is thrusting into empty air, seeking contact. “Nicky,” he says, and bares his teeth.  
  
“I mean, a long time ago,” Nicky says, casually. He presses TJ’s hands under the armrest of the couch, and of course it isn’t enough to stop TJ from moving, but TJ holds still, obediently, as Nicky slides his free hand under TJ’s back, and then into the crease of his ass. “He was still young.” A smile curves Nicky’s lips. “A lot more impatient. Well, I was, too.” TJ feels Nicky’s fingertip circle his hole. “But he barely opened me before he fucked me.”  
  
“Oh god,” TJ says. “ _Fuck_ you.” Because TJ has seen Nicky, okay, he’s seen Ovi, both of them, at the beginning of their careers, the entire world has, and Ovi holding Nicky down and forcing his body open is more than his imagination can take, just right now.  
  
Nicky’s finger dips just inside TJ. “He told me not to move,” he says. “I sucked him before.” It’s matter-of-fact. “I thought that was all it was going to be. You had that experience, right? Juniors?”  
  
TJ can’t answer for shit. Nicky is steadily fingerfucking him, his finger moving in and out, in and out, of TJ’s hole, stimulating the nerves there, and TJ fucking loves the invasion of his body like that, owning him.  
  
“But just as I thought he was going to,” Nicky continues, his voice as steady as his finger, rhythmic and constant, “I thought he was going to come down my throat.” His finger slides in deep, deep inside TJ, just grazing that lovely lovely spot, but pulls out before TJ can appreciate it. “He made me stop. Pulled my hair.” His finger slides in deep, teases, pulls out. “No one else has pulled my hair since that,” Nicky says, almost thoughtfully, as if TJ isn’t sobbing underneath him, his hips bucking in time with just Nicky’s forefinger. “Until you.”  
  
TJ’s hands twitch. He wants to run his hand through Nicky’s hair, and then _pull_. But he remembers in time that he’s not supposed to move. He’s supposed to be good. He closes his eyes.  
  
“Nicky,” he says, and it might be a growl. It might be a whine.  
  
“Do you want to turn around?” Nicky asks. His finger leaves TJ’s hole. He slides his hand around TJ’s hipbones, tugging his shorts down completely, and then onto his dick, and oh, oh fuck. He teases a finger just underneath the head of TJ’s dick, rubbing at the nerves there that makes TJ swear. “You can rub against the sofa,” Nicky whispers, right into TJ’s ear. “While I come inside you. Would you like that?”  
  
“Yes,” TJ hisses, already twisting his body around so Nicky can bite at his nape if he wants that, TJ fucking loves that, fucking loves to be as owned as Nicky will give him. The collar, maybe, he’s already thinking about it for the future.  
  
And then, in a moment of clarity he hadn’t thought possible, TJ asks: “Is that what you did?”  
  
There’s a small pause. Nicky’s movements have paused. As TJ edges back from orgasm, his heartbeat slows and he wonders if he’s ruined something. Everything. Not just the orgasm now, not just tonight, but maybe this entire thing he has with Nicky. Any kind of thing he has with Nicky. Any kind of chance Nicky is going to pass to him on the ice, after this.  
  
But then Nicky whispers, “Yes,” and then TJ is on his stomach, his back arched, his hands still useless under the couch, his hips raised and his ass rutting against the hardness he feels against him.  
  
“I begged, you know,” Nicky says, conversationally, as he pulls back a little, and TJ would complain like the brat that Nicky accused him of, except he hears and feels the zipper of the jeans going down, and then he’s eager, just eager, to feel the bare skin of Nicky’s dick, so promising against his ass, slotting against his crease, then probing at his hole.  
  
TJ doesn’t know how to open himself, or he’d do it. Instead, he whines and raises his hips, trusting Nicky to open his body up.  
  
“Good boy,” Nicky says, and it sounds like he’s quoting someone, and TJ has to bite the arm of the sofa to keep from screaming out loud. He can’t even feel guilty, for the way he can imagine Nicky, younger eyes and unsure lips, as much as he can imagine Ovi, the electric-quick movements he favored when he was younger, and the slanted selfishness with which he took what he wanted. The way the two bodies would have clashed and overcome.  
  
“Nick,” TJ says, and loses the rest of his thoughts as he feels the blunt head of Nicky’s dick at his hole. He arches his back and hopes Nicky will put his lips on him.  
  
Nicky doesn’t indulge him, but he does read TJ’s mind, because he just fucking does that. “I begged him to fuck me,” Nicky says conversationally, as he slowly slides into TJ. TJ feels himself stretching as he accepts the invasion. “Harder. Harder. Please. Faster.” Nicky slides in deeper, teases the spot that his fingers grazed before. Sound bursts from TJ’s throat, a full-out moan. “Ovi did, of course,” Nicky says.  
  
TJ bucks, unexpected, and they both nearly they lose their balance. It only makes Nicky’s dick slide in deeper. It’s exactly what TJ wanted.  
  
“H-harder,” TJ moans. “Faster.”  
  
Nicky lets out a breath, just above TJ’s head. He presses a quick kiss on the back of TJ’s head, because he is a romantic, TJ has found, after all. “I wanted all of his dick,” he says, and he suddenly bottoms out, hitting TJ hard, and TJ doesn’t know how Ovi’s dick would feel inside him, but he feels pretty fucking full right now, Nicky filling him up right up to his lower belly. “I was selfish, I wanted to swallow him up,” Nicky says, and draws out slowly, skin dragging on skin, leaving emptiness inside TJ that makes him ache. “And he,” Nicky whispers, then slams inside home. “He was selfish.”  
  
TJ can feel Nicky’s dick all the way to the back of his throat. He can feel nothing, except the slide of skin, the way his entire body is enveloped by Nicky’s, the way he is completely owned by Nicky. “How,” he manages.  
  
“He rode me really hard.” Nicky slams into TJ hard enough to bruise, and then TJ feels an apologetic tongue swirl in the back of his nape, warm and wet. “He kept going. Fuck, he could go for a long, long time.” He moves in and out of TJ, not steady but with force behind his movements, and TJ feels his body jostle with each thrust. “After a while, he had to keep me down with his hands.” Nicky’s hands come to rest upon TJ’s shoulder blades. “So I couldn’t move, while he fucked me.”  
  
Nicky circles a little, shallow movements, and he must be close because TJ feels his hole stretch further. His nerves are on fire. Each movement edges him closer, closer, closer, his dick rubbing against the couch, and he desperately wishes they’d done this on the floor or something, he’s not getting nearly enough pressure on his dick to come. He can only edge closer and closer and closer and never get there.  
  
“He didn’t stop,” TJ says, and turns his head with some effort. His mind is groggy.  
  
“No,” Nicky says. “But I didn’t want him to,” he says, almost defiantly.  
  
“Yeah,” TJ says, and he may or may not believe Nicky, but he twists his upper body a little so he can seek Nicky with his lips. Nicky obliges, lowering, so they can make out for a quick second, because TJ is not that flexible. “I don’t want you to stop,” he says. “Fuck me.”  
  
There’s a growl that rips out from the back of Nicky’s throat, then, and holy shit, TJ could have come right then and there. “I _wish_ he were here to hold you down,” Nicky says, and TJ barely recognizes that dark tone.  
  
“Nick,” TJ says, and he’s full-out whining, and he’s beyond shame at this point. “Your hand, please, your hand, I need it.” He thrusts against the couch, desperately trying to get some friction, and grinds back against Nicky, trying to take him back in even further.  
  
And then he hears the door slam.

For a second, TJ thinks it’s the neighbors. It’s the wind. But Nicky stills above him, and when TJ raises his head with some effort, Nicky is staring at something on the other side of the couch.  
  
Nicky doesn’t look worried, but that means _jackshit_ when it comes to Nicklas Bäckström. A zombie could have walked into the kitchen with a human arm hanging out from its teeth, and Nicky wouldn’t panic.  
  
And then TJ hears footsteps, and oh. Oh fuck.  
  
“What are you doing here,” Nicky says, and he’s definitely not talking to TJ. His voice is quiet.  
  
There’s no immediate answer, but the footsteps come closer, just a few thuds on the floor. And TJ is not a prude, but he doesn’t particularly want to be caught in the middle of sex like a dog in heat. He cringes.  
  
Nicky apparently felt it, from the way he leans forward, and oh, that’s why he hasn’t pulled out yet: Nicky covers TJ’s body with his own, keeping himself flattened on top of TJ. TJ’s out of sight, as much as he can be.  
  
The person clears his throat, and shit, TJ thinks, wildly, _shit, I know that sound._ “Looking for you,” the person says, right above TJ’s head.  
  
“Ovi,” Nicky says, still quiet. “Obviously, I’m busy, right now.”  
  
“Obviously,” Ovi says, and fuck, TJ can’t see Ovi’s expression, and he’s not Nicky, he can’t read Ovi’s mind. “You’re one who gave me keys, remember.” TJ hears jingles, and then a thud, like keys dropping on the floor.  
  
“Well, leave them there, and get out,” Nicky says. He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds like he’s giving instructions, the way he does on the ice before a face-off.  
  
TJ is about to bury his face on the couch and pretend this isn’t happening to him, when he feels a warm hand on the back of his neck. He jumps, and feels Nicky tense inside him.  
  
“Hey,” Ovi says.  
  
TJ feels the hand move on his head, warm and heavy, and oh, Ovi’s coming around. TJ feels like burying his face into the couch for the rest of eternity, but he turns his head with some effort. He sees Ovi now. Sweatpants, slippers, a t-shirt. Just Ovi, swinging by Nicky’s house. But then Ovi crouches, his face level with TJ’s, and holy fucking shit, TJ has _never_ seen Ovi like this, has never been the end of such intensity.  
  
Ovi licks his lips, his hand still on TJ’s head, and TJ finally understands why some players freeze on the ice in front of Ovi.  
  
“Ovi,” Nicky says, and TJ hears a warning in it.  
  
“But you don’t want me to leave,” Ovi says, and he doesn’t take his eyes off TJ’s. He’s not talking to Nicky. TJ can’t move. Ovi slides his hand from the back of TJ’s face to his cheek, caressing. “You want me,” Ovi says, with all the confidence in the world. “Hold you. Force you. Yeah?”  
  
TJ’s tongue unfreezes. “Fuck,” he says. _Now_ his cheeks are flaming. “You heard.”  
  
Ovi smiles, and it’s the opposite of the way Nicky smiles at TJ: with his lips, wide enough to show the gap in his teeth, but none of the mirth reaching his eyes. “You were pretty loud,” Ovi says. He presses a thumb on the corner of TJ’s mouth, and then slowly slides it inside. TJ takes it, helpless, because he does not know how he can’t.  
  
Then Nicky is pulling out, and TJ shudders, unintentionally moaning around Ovi’s thumb, and feels Ovi’s fingers scratch the side of his face as Nicky’s dick leaves him empty. Ovi’s eyes slide away from TJ and watch Nicky instead, where he must be wet and dripping from TJ.  
  
“That wasn’t very nice,” Nicky says, and now he sounds like he’s cringing, too. TJ can’t imagine Nicky often lets Ovi get the moral upper hand between the two of them. “Sorry,” Nicky adds, and TJ bites his tongue, because that was his fault, he was the idiot who wanted to fantasize about Ovi.  
  
“Don’t,” Ovi says, and now he’s moving his thumb in and out of TJ’s mouth, movements slow but sure. “Wish I knew, before now. Pretty sure I can do something about it.”  
  
And just like that, shame leaves TJ’s body and arousal rushes back in. “Ovi,” he says, around Ovi’s thumb.  
  
“Up,” Ovi says.  
  
TJ doesn’t understand for a second, but then Ovi wraps an arm around TJ’s waist and drags him up a little, before sliding under him. The couch can’t possibly be big enough, TJ thinks, but apparently it can be if TJ is directly on top of Ovi. Ovi pulls TJ back, so that he sprawls on top of Ovi. TJ flails a bit, reaching out a hand to balance himself. But Ovi takes his hand away, so that he can’t hold on to the couch. Instead, TJ has to sink back into Ovi, laid out helpless.  
  
“Osh,” Nicky says, in front of them both. He’s checking.  
  
“He like it,” Ovi says. He runs a hand down TJ’s side, and then pushes against him, rubbing against his ass, experimental.  
  
And _fuck_ , okay, it’s with as much force as TJ imagined in his feverish dreams. TJ nearly bounces off, his balance and sanity flipping further, then falls back just as strongly. He feels Ovi’s hardness press against him, already impressive, and the whole world drops out. TJ wants _everything_.  
  
“He likes a hand around his throat,” Nicky says, and his voice is still calm, quiet, and it’s exactly what sends shivers down to TJ’s toes. “Not hard,” Nicky adds, when Ovi obligingly runs a hand across TJ’s throat, pressing down—by some freaky coincidence—exactly where Nicky had his hand just minutes ago. “Just remind him it’s there. Who he belongs to.”  
  
Ovi mutters words right next to TJ’s ear that TJ doesn’t understand. “Fucking,” Ovi adds, and pants shallowly into TJ’s ear. “Pretty sure kinky. That’s kinky.”  
  
TJ doesn’t care. “More,” TJ says, and bucks. Exactly as he’d hoped, Ovi closes his hand around TJ’s throat, more pressure that Nicky ever used, and he holds TJ’s legs spread with his feet. Holding him down, against Ovi’s hard body, almost to the point of pain. TJ’s vision goes dark, just slightly, from arousal.  
  
“Let me—” Nicky starts, and _yes_ , TJ thinks, let Nicky, let Nicky do whatever he wants; whatever it is, TJ wants it. He feels a hand ride up his thigh, and lets out a moan.  
  
Ovi hooks his chin on TJ’s shoulder. “Hands off,” he says, mildly.  
  
Nicky’s hand stops on TJ’s thigh, just short of his dick, and he doesn’t take it off TJ’s thigh, but neither does he move. TJ wants to cry.  
  
“O,” TJ says, and brings his hand up to where Ovi still keeps steady on his throat. “O, let me,” and what he really means is, _let Nicky._  
  
“I think he should stay back,” Ovi says. There’s a pause, and TJ opens his eyes, only in time to see Nicky slowly retreat to the other end of the couch. Nicky leans back, watching them both.  
  
“Ovi,” Nicky says.  
  
Ovi doesn’t answer, but keeps his chin on TJ’s shoulder and presses a hand down on TJ’s lower belly, and the pressure lights some nerves that TJ hasn’t felt before. It’s not quite bad, not quite good, but nonetheless, it makes TJ’s dick jump. It makes TJ grind down against the hardness pressing up against him. TJ gives out a full-blown whine, because _nobody_ is touching his dick, and he’s empty inside.  
  
Then Ovi says, past TJ, “I didn’t know you remembered.”  
  
TJ hears, “I didn’t know _you_ remembered,” from Nicky.  
  
“Hm,” says Ovi.  
  
“I didn’t,” says Nicky.  
  
“Hm,” Ovi says, again, and then TJ feels his hand slip down lower, and fuck, fuck, finally, it wraps around his dick. TJ could choke from just how good it feels.  
  
Ovi slides his hand up and down TJ’s dick, adding more pressure each time, and says, pleasantly, “You’re smartest fucking man I know, Backy.”  
  
“I can’t actually,” Nicky starts, but then TJ whimpers, because the pleasure is now shorting into pain. Nicky bites off whatever it had been. “Not there,” TJ hears, and then he feels the heat of Nicky’s body move in closer. TJ lifts his head, on instinct, and tries to find Nicky. Nicky, who always makes him safe. “Not like—”  
  
“I said,” Ovi says, “stay back.”  
  
His hand doesn’t pause on TJ’s dick, but Nicky’s _right_ , it’s too hard, it’s not enough. TJ wants to whimper and buck away. But he also sees Nicky, frozen above them. He doesn’t want Nicky to stay back. He doesn’t want Nicky to wear the expression he does, raw in a way that _TJ_ has never seen.  
  
“Nicky,” TJ pants out, and he doesn’t know what he wants.  
  
“Just for a bit,” Ovi says, a little bit of a croon, and his thumb rubs under the head of TJ’s dick, the perfect amount of roughness, and TJ nearly comes then and there. But Ovi backs off, before he can. TJ bares his teeth in complete and utter frustration. He’d buck and fuss, but Ovi’s other hand still presses against his throat, making sure he stays. “You want me to fuck you,” Ovi says, deep into TJ’s ears, “way I fucked Backy? I wasn’t nice,” he says, and fuck, is this what Ovi sounded like, even back then, is this what Nicky had to deal with? Ovi runs his fingers on the side of TJ’s dick, and TJ is so frustrated he could cry. Ovi’s hand can’t, won’t, get him there.  
  
Nicky says, “He won’t say stop.” He’s referring to TJ. His voice is calm, though it’s still frozen in place, inches and miles away from them.  
  
Ovi’s hand leaves TJ’s dick to grab one side of TJ’s ass, _hard_ , pinching. He parts TJ’s ass, holding his hole tantalizingly open. “You don’t,” he says, and grunts. “You didn’t say stop, Nicky. Or I didn’t hear you,” he adds.  
  
“I didn’t say it,” Nicky says.  
  
TJ’s eyes find Nicky, who looks mesmerized, by _TJ_. His eyes are hungry, sucking in TJ’s desperation. TJ whines, softly, for Nicky. He wants Nicky to read his mind.  
  
Nicky licks his lips. “I didn’t say it,” he repeats. “I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted it.”  
  
“Good boy,” Ovi breathes, into TJ’s ears. The tone hits TJ’s gut, owning him. It takes him longer to even register it when Ovi whispers: “One hand.”  
  
And even if TJ had registered it on time, he wouldn’t have realized it wasn’t directed at him. Instead, a third hand folds against TJ’s throat, right where Ovi holds him secure, two hands overlapped on TJ’s throat: Nicky and Ovi. Nicky’s hand tentatively travels down to his collarbones, then to his chest, then to his nipples.

“Osh,” Nicky breathes, warm air just above TJ’s belly.  
  
TJ whines. He feels the heat from Nicky’s body above him, and the hardness behind him, pressing, the way Ovi must be dying to come. But apparently, Ovi is a lot more patient when it comes to this than Nicky, because Ovi just slides the hand on TJ’s ass towards his hole, circling around his opening, before entering a finger inside, slowly.  
  
Or maybe Ovi is focusing on something else, other than his dick that’s far too distant from TJ’s hole, where it should be, _right now_. Not a selfish lover, this one. But TJ isn’t to think of this, until much later. Right now, he’s just twisting his body and begging for release, which neither of his partners is willing to grant any time soon.  
  
Instead, Nicky slides his hand down from TJ’s throat, too, and finds Ovi’s finger. “You’re still open,” he murmurs to TJ, and slides his finger in next to Ovi’s. It’s just two fingers inside TJ, but they’re coming from different angles, and that stretches TJ’s hole in strange directions, stretches it _more_.  
  
“More,” TJ manages to say, because he _knows_ he’s open, Nicky, fuck you, _that’s_ the problem. He’s so— “I’m so empty,” he says.  
  
Nicky looks up at him, one finger inside TJ, kneeling between both TJ’s and Ovi’s legs, and TJ has never seen him so hungry. “O,” he says.  
  
Ovi groans into TJ’s ear. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck. Backy—” he draws in a wet breath, tickling TJ’s ear. “One hand,” he says.  
  
Nicky bares his teeth. TJ’s the one still being held against Ovi’s entire body by the throat, but Nicky’s the one chomping at the bits, barely reined in. TJ swears he hears a growl. Or maybe that was Ovi. TJ can’t tell, anymore, mixed up as all three of them are.  
  
“One hand,” Ovi repeats, and he’s still panting, but his body is steady. The shallow rise and fall of his chest rocks TJ’s body like waves, arousal coming and going. “Stay, Backy.”  
  
Nicky doesn’t take his eyes off Ovi, looking past TJ’s flushed face. He adds a finger inside TJ, though, and TJ is going to die. He throws his head back, and bears down, _hard_ , on those fingers, invading him from two different directions. It's not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough. “ _Please_ ,” he says, to either of them.  
  
Ovi draws in a breath, his chest against TJ’s back, like he’s about to say something, which, fuck you, is not what TJ needs. But then Nicky’s fingers leave TJ, the wet tips grazing against his side as Nicky leans in even closer. He’s suffocating TJ. Ovi must be drowning, under both their weights.  
  
“It was my first time,” Nicky says, and TJ realizes Nicky’s talking to him, and tries to focus on Nicky’s voice. On Nicky, who’s staring straight at TJ, his gaze never wavering. “I never said. But that was my first.”  
  
TJ doesn’t know what Nicky’s looking for, the expression on his face, the drop of his heart, the heat of his body. But focused as he is on TJ, Nicky must miss the softest sound that Ovi makes, the rumble of it beneath TJ, like the sound of a hurt animal.  
  
“Fuck,” Ovi says, the sound punched out. “Fuck. Backy—”  
  
He doesn’t finish, can’t. Instead, Nicky slides both hands around TJ’s torso, gentles his touch on TJ’s skin for a second, before reaching behind. He’s practically on top of TJ now, and TJ’s running out of air, he’s suffocating on Nicky. The weight of it all presses down on him, jostling around, and then he feels rough fabric against his ass, sliding down. Nicky’s taking Ovi’s pants off.  
  
“Fuck,” TJ breathes into the scant space in front of him. Nicky pulls back, and TJ seeks him, instinctively. TJ gets to see Nicky’s eyes, smiling, before their lips meet. Nicky draws TJ’s tongue out, coaxes the tight knot of emotions out of TJ’s chest, and it’s like finding air again.  
  
Then TJ feels the heat of Ovi’s dick, seeking his hole, sliding across the entrance a few times, before entering an inch. Another inch. TJ gasps, right into Nicky’s cheek.  
  
“Good boy,” Nicky says, the syllables all blurring together. He presses his lips against TJ’s forehead, even as Ovi slides in another inch deeper. “Good boy.”  
  
“Nicky,” TJ says, and he wants to move. His body’s completely owned by Ovi, thicker than Nicky, his hole stretching wide open, but he wants to move. He finds his hand, somehow still attach to his body, and tries to run it down the back of Nicky’s head. “Nick. Babe.”  
  
Hot air puffs down, and it takes another inch of Ovi’s dick and another second for TJ to understand Nicky laughed, softly. “A little more,” Nicky says, and selfishly, meanly, he takes his mouth off TJ to glance behind him—at Ovi. “A little more,” he repeats, this time at Ovi.  
  
Ovi grunts, wordless, behind TJ, and then TJ feels him bottom out, his ass fully snug against Ovi, and TJ chokes. He’s so full.  
  
“Move,” Nicky says, almost calmly, and he palms TJ’s dick.  
  
TJ comes, right then and there. He feels full everywhere in his body. He can feel Ovi’s dick all the way to his lower belly, just grazing his spot and teasing and never enough. He can feel Nicky seep into his skin, everywhere on his body. And Nicky’s hand, pressed against the root of his dick, before casually gliding up, will do it. TJ feels the heat spurt everywhere between him and Nicky, nearly passing out from the release.  
  
When he comes to, Nicky has slid down lower, and he is licking up TJ’s stomach, cleaning him up, and fuck, TJ’s dick gives a valiant try to get up again.  
  
“Backy,” Ovi rasps behind TJ, and then TJ chokes as his throat is released, for the first time since Ovi placed it there. TJ hadn’t been looking for air, not exactly, and he hadn’t even realized, hadn’t even registered the pressure against his throat as foreign. But now, he draws in a huge breath, oxygen rushing in, before Ovi nearly folds him in half to grab Nicky’s shoulder and pull him, harshly, into both TJ and himself.  
  
“No,” Nicky says, and his face this close to TJ’s, TJ can’t miss the wince that goes through Nicky. “No, I—”  
  
“Come on,” Ovi says, and then, oh, Nicky’s rubbing right up into TJ’s belly, and Ovi’s hand is snaking in there. TJ can’t see what’s going on, but he can feel it, both the hand that moves up and down in an obvious way on his stomach, and the stuttered breath that Nicky lets out. Nicky seems to be twisting, a little, but his breathing comes faster and faster, and yeah, the choked off grunt he gives at the end is familiar. TJ has heard it several, several times.  
  
TJ raises his hips, or tries, his body completely plastered to Ovi’s with sweat, and that small movement is rewarded with Nicky closing his eyes and his lips falling open, looking vulnerable for all the world to see, a hoarse grunt escaping, before he comes, right on Ovi’s hand and TJ’s stomach. Almost at the same time, TJ feels Ovi stiffen beneath him, quiet as can be, and TJ doesn’t know what Ovi sounds like when he comes, but TJ knows the feeling of a dick expanding inside him, spurting wetness, slick sliding down outside.  
  
For long seconds, TJ feels like the world has stopped turning. The three of them stuck to this moment in time, as if hardened in resin. But then Nicky raises his head, seeking TJ’s eyes, wrecked. TJ nearly flinches at the emotion naked in Nicky’s eyes, the rawness of it all.  
  
Nicky leans forward, and all that focus is entirely on TJ. TJ only glimpses it before he feels Nicky’s lips on his, hot and wet and desperate. Nicky doesn’t try to slip a tongue in, doesn’t try to dazzle him with the clever grazes of his teeth. It’s just pure, emotional, the language that the two of them share best.  
  
It lasts seconds. It’s minutes and hours and miles to go, when Nicky finally lets TJ go. The stickiness drips all over TJ’s body, like molasses out to entrap. Nicky shivers against him.  
  
It’s seconds before TJ turns his head, wincing at the pain. He looks behind him for the first time. Ovi's hands are still bruising on TJ’s hips. His eyes are devoid of emotion. But they’re watching Nicky.  
  
_Selfish_ , TJ thinks, unbidden, and he swallows the word whole.

**Author's Note:**

> This might've come across a tad angstier than I intended. Really, it's just PWP, my id just likes Ovi and Nicky being two dominant fuckers, especially when it comes to each other, and TJ just wondering why no one is touching his dick already. 
> 
> ...Like I said, I'm really sorry about me. Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> [tumblr](http://xihale.tumblr.com)


End file.
